


Morning Whispers

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9556037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: A first morning after.





	

Although their evening session(s) had been very satisfactory and involved, as it always was, the quiet offer of a bed as a _bed_ for once had been surprising in the extreme. 

Stay. _Stay_. A hand on his wrist, an entreating pair of white-shined eyeballs. Stay. Just one night. No one will know.

Funny: Kylo had tasted her tongue, her lips, her inner walls. He’d heard her sigh and scream and moan. He hadn’t been prepared for how it would feel to _fall asleep next to her,_ which maybe should have been less important than making her scream in ecstasy.

He’d listened to her breathing even out, watched the stories in silhouette by tracking her wandering eyes beneath their lids. He’d seen the expression of sheer trust and faith, and he’d felt an overwhelmingly protective surge of happiness, and a keen… selflessness, for once.

He’d realised, then, that he’d do almost anything for her.

Kylo had tried his damndest to stay awake as long as possible, wanting to treasure the memory of someone so close, so close he could almost hear their dreams. Someone who believed in him, and someone who… had become so important to him that he knew he had to save her, at all costs.

(If she even needed saving at all.)

But sleep had claimed him in the end, and when the subtle increase of light to simulate ‘day’ starts to filter in, he wakes to see her watching his face from too close up.

She’s got that inscrutable thing going on, the one that says ‘I don’t even _need_ my mask’. One finger has a lock of his hair twined around like a snake, and it’s too near to focus on, but he can feel the soft touches, and see the movement dimly.

“Did you sleep okay?” she asks.  


Such… tenderness in her tone, and he feels like his ribcage is both expanding and contracting: the big bang, the big crunch. “Yes.”

He thinks he did. He feels refreshed, most certainly. His hand on her hip, his eyes on hers. 

“Did you?”  


“With you here, yes,” she replies.  


That makes… that makes him feel so, so light inside that he can’t hold back the smile, and he sees it reflected on her face. Dancing like hot springs in her eyes, curving like a half-cut moon over her mouth. 

Maker, but his heart pounds. “So… again?”

“As often as you’re able,” she says, addressing the Wampa in the room.  


“Yes.” Because they’re still not ‘official’, and probably never can be. But he likes this, he likes it a lot: waking up with her all mussed from sleep, both of them blurry-eyed and nicely rested. Warm body, mirroring smiles.  


He has slept better than he remembers in the longest time, and the giddy feeling all the way through is just… _bliss_. He leans over to kiss her softly, and resolves to do this every damn night he can. This was a _wonderful_ idea, in a life mostly dedicated to him making the opposite kind of decision.

His luck is - at last - changing. In so many wonderful, incredible ways.


End file.
